


Behind His Back

by AdriChambers_ (MxAdriChambers)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Aphrodisiacs slipped into drinks, Dubious Consent, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxAdriChambers/pseuds/AdriChambers_
Summary: A night out with his brother suddenly leaves Béal in quite the pickle.





	Behind His Back

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea my partner and I had that took me months to just finish. I'm garbage.

Loud music blared in the room, shocking some who entered the pub as newer customers and welcoming some who were regulars. The first floor of the pub was always so lively and energetic. People danced, people sang, some just laughed, hung their arms around each other and had a good time. A man with deep orange hair and extreme bushy brows slammed a foot on one of the wooden chairs.

"Next round is on me, fellas!" he exclaimed with a smile. This caused nearly everyone to erupt in applause and cheers as glasses were passed around from waiter to customer. One would swear this party could last all night! And with Ireland there, a night at the pub could turn into waking up there in the morning.

"You sure know how to keep the party going!" Ireland turned to the closest voice to him, which was difficult in its own part. He smiled brightly at the sight of his younger brother.

"Béal!" Ireland gave the other a great bear hug yet was careful enough not to spill the beer in his hands. He set him down, Béal laughing happily from his brother's excitement. "So glad ye could make it!"

"Ya think I'd miss one of ye famous pub parties?" Béal gave Ireland a small whack to his arm, the beer sloshing around in the glass Ireland held.

"I figured England kept ya back. He normally doesn't let ya come to these!"

Béal gave the other a sly smirk. "Who said he let me come over?"

Ireland stood shocked. "Did...you sneak over?"

Béal shrugged, that cunning grin still plastered over his face. "I told him I wasn't feeling well to avoid any confrontation and basically zoomed on over."

"That's why ye outfit looks a little more ragged." It was Ire's turn to give Béal the small whack to his arm. Béal's attire was pretty different from usual. Instead of the more proper suits or dress shirts, he was wearing more casual clothing similar to Ireland's, yet he still wore a nice tie with it too. Guess one can never truly escape the "proper life."

"That's all another story, though. I'm here, and I'm gonna spend time with me brother!" Béal hooked an arm around the slightly taller male, who in turn offered the glass of beer he had been holding to him. It was an honor to have Ireland offer one a beer, but his own? That was practically a godsend. However, with it being Béal, it was a familiar thing, an act of trust or "I like you enough to give you something I adore". "Bro, for me?" Béal threw his hand over his heart, letting out a fake sniffle. "Yer too nice to me, brother." He took the glass, gulping down at least half of it before pulling it away with a satisfied, "Ah!" Béal wiped his mouth and said, "Nothin' like a pint to refresh ya from the long journey over!"

Ireland roughly patted his back. "That's the spirit!"

The night carried on, the music and people roaring loudly with glee. Ireland and Béal even had a small dance off of who could Riverdance the best. Béal had fallen flat on his bottom, earning a small "Awww..." from the crowd. Nevertheless, he was helped up by some from the group, given a pat on the back, and his night continued.

Some time passed, and Béal began to feel a rush of heat from what he assumed to just be the warm air of the pub. However it didn't let up. No amount of fanning himself with anything did any good. He decided to give himself a rest at the counter of the pub.

I probably drank a little much...

A rough hit to his back snapped him from his thoughts, a faint gasp escaping him.

"Oi, Béal. Ye alright?" Béal turned to see Ireland, who appeared concerned for his brother. "Ya never sit off like this. Did ya drink too much?"

"H-Heh. I think I did," Béal replied with a nervous chuckle. "I just need a moment's rest." Ireland gently rubbed his back in a soothing motion.

"Stay right here. I'll get ya some water." Ireland stepped back, leaving Béal alone once more. Béal propped his head in his hands, holding himself up on his elbows. All the noise around him seemed to fade and blur together, sounding more and more muffled as time went on. He didn't even notice the glass of water before him. Ireland had to shake his shoulder a bit.

"Oi! Béal!" Again, Béal was shaken from his thoughts, and Ireland sighed softly as he pushed the cup of water towards him. "Aye if ya aren't feeling well maybe we should take ya home."

"N-No no that's such a long ways away." Béal took a long drink of the water, wiping his mouth to stop the liquid dribbling down his chin as he finished. "B-Besides I'm not up for the travel..."

"Then I'll take ya to my place." Ireland helped the younger male up and led him to the door. As Béal grabbed his and Ireland's coats from the rack, Ireland called back into the pub. "All ye keep the party goin'! I'll be back soon!" There was a cheer that soon dulled into a muffled roar as the two stepped out and shut the door. "Ye alright to go?"

"It's just a trip to yer house, Ire," Béal replied, putting his coat over his arm to carry as the two began to walk. "I think I can live."

"Ye ain't gonna wear ya coat?" Ireland took his coat from Béal and slid his arms into the sleeves.

"N-Nah, I'm fine. I'm still a bit warm, so I think the air will cool me down." He wasn't lying. His whole body still felt hot, but while the air did feel nice, he wasn't cooling down at all during the walk to Ireland's house. He almost swore he got hotter and hotter as they got closer and closer. Béal's breathing even picked up, which was strange for just the distance of the house.

"Béal maybe we should get ya a cool bath when we get home." Ireland put a hand to the warm brother. "Ye look like ya burning up. Are ya actually coming down with something?"

"N-No!" he suddenly exclaimed, shaking his shoulder away. The touch felt too foreign for him to handle. "N-No I...I just need to lay down." Was this a curse or something for ditching England? Did he find out and curse his own brother with an actual illness?

Béal didn't have to wait any longer as the two finally came up to Ireland's house. Ireland fiddled with the keys for a moment before he finally managed to unlock the door and let the two in, turning the lights on as soon as he stepped inside. Béal stepped further in as Ireland shut and lock the door.

"Well, bat'room is just in the hall," Ireland mentioned as he put his coat on the rack. "I can bring ya some pajamas or--" As he turned, Béal had fallen onto the couch, his shoulders rising and falling with what felt like forced breathing. It didn't help that half his face was buried into the cushions of the couch, eyes squinted shut in attempt to concentrate on something aside from this hotness. His arms wrapped around himself as his legs curled up against him. And his face...

Oh...

His face was flushed a lovely shade of red against that pale skin.

Ireland stepped closer, stopping just inches from the trembling male. His finger ever so gently brushed along his upper arm. Béal swore that feeling alone was multiplied by a hundred as his body stiffened.

"I-Ireland I...I don't know what's wrong," Béal finally managed out, his body slowly relaxing once again. His voice, if possible, felt heavy. "E-Everything's hot, everything f-feels weird, I..." His eyes slowly opened as his head turned towards Ireland. "Wh-What do I--" Upon the sight of his brother, he froze, his words stuck in his throat before forcing them out in a croaky voice. "--d...do...?"

Ireland knelt down to meet his gaze, a small smirk resting on his lips. His fingers danced along Béal's arm once again before resting on his heated cheek. Béal again flinched and stiffened, holding his breath until the hand rested on his cheek. He then let it out in a shaky rush. His fingers then slid into the back of his hair, sending tingles down Béal's back.

"I-Ire...? Wh-What are ye doin'...?"

"Ah, nothin' lad," Ireland replied. "Just...looking."

Béal sat as still as possible, which was quite difficult due to his trembling breathing and shuddering body. Ireland's fingers danced back along his neck, down the upper portion of his arm, and slid down his side, earning a jump and a squeak from the smaller male. Béal slammed his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. Why he felt the need to hide his reaction, he didn't know, but it earned a small, amused chuckle out of Ireland.

"Didn't realize ye sides were that sensitive," he mused, dragging his fingers along the cloth covered skin. This time, Béal gave a muffled moan from beneath his fingers, his body tensing and curling further.

"S-Stop--" he pleaded softly, which was more of another muffle than anything. I don't understand...Why is my body...?

Ireland's fingers continued their journey, trailing down to the waist of his pants. His touch traveled just above the fabric, grazing his stomach. When he neared the front and center, Béal flinched, and his hands shot down to grip the other's wrist.

"I-I...I think I'll take ye offer on the bath--" he stammered with a nervous grin. "Y-You said it was just down the hall?"

Béal didn't even get a chance to move. He gave a yelp as his body was pushed over, and Ireland standing over him, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand as the other kept him flat on his back by pressing into his abdomen. For some reason, he felt more exposed this way.

"I-Ire, that's enough." Béal's words held a hint of nervous laughter. "C-Come on now I wanna go take a ba--" His words were cut with a trembling gasp when Ireland's hand roughly gripped his pitching tent through his pants. "I-Ireland--!"

"I'm surprised ya let it go this long." Ireland slowly moved his hand up and down, sending the other into a shuddering, whimpering craze. "I know yer stubborn like me, but to let yourself fight it and grow this big?" He squeezed the base, earning a sudden moan from the other. Béal's brows were furrowed tight, his waist squirming and fighting to rid of Ireland's hand.

"I-Ireland w-would ya jus' let me go?!" he pleaded, his hands opening and shutting with attempt to scratch the other's hands for freedom, but with no luck.

"Why would I let ye go when yer clearly enjoyin' it?"

"Wh-What are you--"

"Yer hips, Béal."

Wondering what on earth he was talking about, Béal looked down and was horrified to see his hips grinding up, rubbing himself against Ireland's hand. He forced himself down, digging his bottom back into the cushions. Unknowingly backing himself into a corner as Ireland returned his hand to the spot, rubbing more roughly this time, causing Béal to dig his head back into the couch at the feeling.

"Wh...Why are...y-ya doin' this, Ireland...?" he breathed out, his mind growing hazier and hazier with every passing minute. "I-Ire..." Ireland's hand soon left, his fingers tracing the pitching fabric before pulling away. Béal's hips bucked upwards, desperately trying to regain the touch against his mind's wishes. Ireland smirked lightly, his fingers tracing up the cloth along his stomach. Béal's body was on absolute fire, his breathing hot, heavy and shaky. "P-Please...P-Please, Ireland..."

"What's all that beggin' for?" Ireland questioned. "Are ya really that lost in it?"

"Sh-Shut up!" Béal practically screamed. "N-No I'm not I just...G-God just--" He fought over what to say now, the words slurring out as he spoke. "J-Just shut up and get this over with! Whatever yer doing, just do it!"

Ireland was silent for the longest time, thinking over what Béal had said. "...On one condition," he finally answered.

"F-Fine! Anythin'!"

"Say you need me."

Béal had opened his mouth to retaliate, but Ireland's words took him back. "Wh-What...? A-Are ya daft?!"

"If ya don't say it, I won't do a damn thing." With that, Ireland straightened up, releasing Béal from his grasp.

Once free, Béal angrily sat up, glaring daggers at the male as he squeezed his legs shut and wrapped his arms over his lap. "Y-Yer a bloody idjit!"

Ireland gazed down at him, silent for the most part. Without a word, he turned and sat down in an arm chair, crossing his legs. "I'm not doing anything, until ya say it." He then rested his head in his hand, elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. "And I know you, Béal. You'll crack soon enough."

Béal met his eyes, swearing his gaze sent chills down his spine. He decided to avoid his look, but it didn't stop him from feeling submissive under his watchful eye. He could move and he knew it, nothing was stopping him, but...

A throbbing pain surged through his waist, causing him to wince and hold himself tighter, which did not help him at all. He had to sit up slightly to alleviate the pressure, and he almost swore he could hear Ireland smirk. Béal slid his hands onto his head, resting the heels on his hands over his eyes.

Just think about something else...Something else something else...

Seconds ticked by like minutes, and Béal gripped his hair tightly. He swore the gathering minutes felt like hours, but nothing he thought of eased the pressure that was ever growing between his legs.

"Béal..."

Béal jumped, not daring to move his hands. What was that voice? That...That wasn't Ireland. That voice was...deep...sultry...

"Y...Yes...?" What was that voice?! W-Was that mine?!

"Say it..."

Immediately, Béal's voice strengthened. "N-No!"

There was more silence and what Béal could only describe as some shuffling, but he didn't pay mind to it. Fingers grazed his jaw, leaving him to openly gasp out and practically threw his head up at the suspect. Ireland had moved from his spot, his hand leaving his jaw when he looked up at him. Béal swore his heart was about to beat out of his chest. In a moment of panic, he gripped onto Ireland's shirt, knuckles turning white.

"I..." Don't...Don't you dare... "I-I..."

Ireland gently caressed his face, his fingers lovingly holding his face. The simple gesture, along with his already shattering mind, sent the male cracking.

"I-I need you!" he finally admitted. "I need you, I fucking need you!" His hands would pull him closer with almost every word. "I can't take it anymore okay?! Are ya happy now?! I need you, Ire!"

Ireland sighed happily, his face no longer hardened with dominance, but laced with softness. "Oh, Béal...That's all I wanted to hear..."

Ireland used Béal's moment of confusion to flip him over, the end result being Ireland sitting on the couch and Béal straddling his hips. Béal held onto his shoulders, and his legs squeezed Ireland's hips, swearing to himself that these actions were only to keep himself from being thrown around everywhere.

Once settled, he asked, "Wh-What do you mean about that...?"

"I just wanted to hear you say that," Ireland replied simply, nuzzling his nose into the other's neck. "It's been so long since we were together, and hearing you say that..." he sighed deeply, his breath causing the other to shudder, "...music to my ears."

"W-Was this whole thing just for that?!" Béal had started pushing away, but Ireland's hold on the small of his back tightened, keeping him in place. "Y-You did all this for me to just say that?! Bloody hell, what exactly did you even do to me?!"

"Nothing important." His response was a rushed breath as he pressed a firm kiss to his neck, stopping the blond from nearly hitting him out of irritation. "I just wanted us to be together again like before."

"Y-Y...Ya slipped me something didn't you?!" Béal lightly whacked the side of Ireland's head once the kiss ended however, earning a chuckle from the male. God this man...

"Oh, you know you wanted it too." Ireland finished his words off with another kiss, this one softer, on the other side of his neck.

"You...Y-Yer a dumbass..." Béal's voice was a shivering mess from the other's lips. Curse them for being so soft along his skin.

He really did want that too. "That" being becoming one again with the island of Ireland. He didn't think of it this way but...it's too late to stop now. More like he didn't want to stop. Throwing caution to the wind, he gripped the collar of Ireland's shirt and pulled him into a deep, hot kiss. A kiss that he didn't know he needed until now.

Ireland's hands flew into Béal's hair, gripping it softly as he returned the kiss. The two melted into each other's kiss, each giving a soft groan from the feeling. His hands bucked up into Béal's, earning him a gasp and easy access into his mouth. Béal practically melted into him, his body molding into Ireland's with every passing second. The two swore they could still taste the alcohol they both had, leaving the two to deepen the kiss further.

Béal soon had to pull away, panting heavily into the air as fresh oxygen rushed to his lungs. Ireland wasted no time, attacking Béal's neck with firm kisses and licks. Béal's grip on the other's shirt tightened, his knuckles whiter than his own pale skin. God, every kiss and every nip sent chills down his spine, his panting turning into trembling moans. One hand had traveled from his hair into the small of his back, holding him close, and Ireland now kept a rougher grip in his hair. Béal had to admit, Ireland's roughness was oddly arousing.

He had enough waiting, and Béal quickly started to unbutton Ireland's shirt with trembling hands. Unbeknownst to him, Ireland's surge of dominance returned, and Béal found his head almost snapping back from Ireland's pull.

"Not yet," Ireland growled, his hot breath hitting Béal's ear. All the sweet noises he was making just sent Ireland to the edge. "On the floor."

Puzzled, Béal faltered, looking down at him when the grip on his hair was released. "W-Wait wh--" Wasting no time, Ireland sat up and shoved Béal down to the floor, his knees hitting the carpeted wood. Béal held onto Ireland's knees to keep himself balanced, glaring up at him for the sudden shove. However, his eyes widened at the new sight before him, his breath hitching in his throat.

Oh god he's bigger than I thought...

"I think ye know what I want now, right?" Ireland asked, his own breath shuddering in anticipation as his hand slid back into Béal's hair once again. Béal's face was flushed an incredible red, heat practically radiating off his cheeks. "Well...?"

"I-Ireland I-I don't know if I--"

"Béal I know ye can with that big runnin' mouth of yours," he prodded.

Béal shot a glare at him. "Fuck you, Ire--ghngh!"

Taking advantage of Béal's open mouth, Ireland shoved his length into him, a groan of satisfaction rushing past his lips. "Th-There ya go..." Tears pricked Béal's eyes, coughing along his shaft. He focused his breathing through his nose, his mouth adjusting to the sudden protrusion. He only held a few inches, terrified at the thought of holding more. He didn't have time to think before Ireland held his head with both hands and forced the other's head along his shaft, soft gulping sounds vibrating against him. His hands gripped Béal's hair tighter, and soon he wasn't moving the other's head, but rather he was moving on his own. A shaky smile slipped onto Ireland's face as he relished in the pleasure.

Béal had his hands on Ireland's thighs, his head bobbing along his shaft with a little suck here and there. His tongue slicked along the sides, flattening to reach every angle he could touch. Ireland's hands were surprisingly gentle at this point, running along his hair, carefully caressing him. Béal gazed up at him, and Ireland swore his eyes were hazed with lust.

Daring to do what he feared just moments ago, Béal attempted to take more of him in, the bitter taste now filling the back of his throat as more inches slipped further into his mouth. Ireland found himself sitting back against the couch, heavy panting filling the air as his eyes slowly slipped shut. His mouth was almost like heaven along his shaft.

"F-Fuck...Béal...H-How are you so good at thi--A-Ah!!" Ireland hips bucked roughly against the other, another rush of pleasure surging through his body. "J-Jesus Christ wh-what was that--?"

Béal slowed for a moment, trying to process his question. After a moment, he repeated his action. His teeth had slowly scrapped along the other, being extremely careful not to be too hard or rough. He was hoping to get just the right amount of friction, and by Ireland's reaction from before, it worked, and now with the second time to answer him, Ireland was sent into a shuddering mess.

"F-Fucking...h-hell...I-I swear if ye bite me--"

Béal pulled off to answer, but slid a hand over to gently rub him to make sure he didn't go a single second without pleasure. "I wouldn't do that, Ire. If I wanted to I would have earlier, wouldn't I?" His voice was oddly playful yet pleasing, and he gave the other male a long, slow lick along his shaft before he could answer.

"Y-You little..." Whether Ireland liked that teasing side of him or not was something he couldn't decide at the moment. All he knew was that he was aching for more of that sweet mouth around him. "J-Just put your mouth back on there." He held his hair tightly, ready to shove him back onto his shaft, but Béal was obedient, and slid his warm, slick mouth back onto the Ireland's somewhat salty length, earning a shuddering moan from the older male.

The air was filled with nothing but Ireland moaning, and Béal's sucking, slurping, and groaning. The noises were practically a wondrous tone in the room, echoing off the walls as time went on. Ireland could feel himself growing nearer and nearer, his shaft aching for release more and more.

"B-Béal...G-God I'm close...I-I'm so close. D-Don't you dare stop..."

Oh did Béal listen. In fact, he quickened his movements, roughened his licks, and sucked a tad harder once those words hit his ears. Ireland almost hunched forward, his breath quick and hot as he felt his stomach begin to tighten and his voice strain.

"L-Like that...O-Oh fuck like that Béal. J-Just a bit more, a bit more--H-Hah!"

Ireland practically slammed Béal's head against his groin, the other's nose almost nestled in deep orange hair as he felt himself finally release into the other's mouth. His grip was tight, but Béal didn't mind. He had relaxed and prepared himself for it, swallowing every salty and bitter spurt that was almost shoved down his throat.

Once off, Béal panted for heavily, coughing occasionally as his lungs filled with fresh air. A white substance dribbled from his chin, his tongue quickly picking it up. The sight sent shivers down Ireland's spine.

"Y-You...Jesus, Béal..." Ireland ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly into the air. "That was..."

"Amazing...?" Béal teased, sliding a finger along his thigh. Ireland flinched, his hand running down his face at this point. Béal started to stand and return to Ireland's lap, but the male stopped him.

"Not yet," he stated. "Take off your clothes and hand me your tie."

Béal blinked, processing what he had just said before shedding his vest and and white dress shirt. The tie had slid off at that point, which he gave to Ireland as demanded, and not long after, Béal sat upon his knees, completely bare from any clothes. "Wh-Why do you need the tie?"

"Ah, no reason." Sticking the tie in his pocket, Ireland finally stood. "C'mon. Up on t'e couch."

The thought once again took Béal a moment to gather. "H-How so? Like...wh-where at--"

"Over the arm," he replied quickly, hoisting the male up to his feet. Béal stumbled forward some, his knee falling onto the cushion. With a swear, he positioned himself where Ireland instructed, his chest rubbing against the fabric while the lower half rested against a throw pillow, a small exhale rushing out of him once he felt the material press his length against himself. He felt the couch shift and two chilly hands gripping his hips, leaving him shivering. The chill traveled from his hips towards something lower, causing Béal to practically squeak out.

"A-Aye yer hands are cold!" he exclaimed, his hand shooting back and gripping one of Ireland's wrists. "J-Jesus Christ..."

"Then I guess I should warm them, ah?" Béal could practically hear the smirk in his voice. His body tensed for what he thought was coming, his hand releasing the other to grip the arm of the couch, but instead relaxed when two fingers were visible before his face. "Ye really thought I'd go in without doin' any prep?"

Béal's face flushed a radiant red. "Sh-Shut up." He took a shaky breath before enveloping the digits within his mouth the same way he had taken his shaft moments ago. His tongue slipped around them, coating them with a slick layer of saliva. He swore he heard a shaky exhale from Ireland behind him once his tongue had swirled around. J-Jesus someone gets off to sound--. He finished with a soft exhale, sliding off his fingers. Ireland brought them back and gently gripped one of his cheeks, exposing a sweet, perked hole.

"Yer body's already practically begging fer me," he noted softly, his voice holding a heavy sensual tone as one finger gently traced the opening.

Béal's lower half started to rise up against his touch. "N-No that's not--" A stretch of muscle halted his words, his eyes widening as the protrusion slowly filled him. "F-Fuck--!"

"Gettin' off on one finger, Béal?" Ireland leaned forward, his breath hitting the other's ear. "I didn't know how easy you were."

"Th-That's not it!" he cried out, glaring back to the other. "J-Jus' not used to it, ye shite..."

"Well, work on that." Ireland's finger slowly pulled back before thrusting in again. Béal wrapped his arms around his face, the bend of his elbow positioned just before his mouth, muffling his moan. The motions continued until Ireland slipped in the second finger, stretching open the tight ring of muscles further. Béal's back arched up, pressing flush against Ireland's chest as he released a moan into the air.

"A-Ah! F-Fuck!" His body fell hard again once Ireland kept the thrusting at a constant speed, gripping the couch tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "I-Irelaaaand..."

"Ah...that's it..." Ireland's voice fell deep once again, his speed picking up and fingers curling. Béal was going up the wall with pleasure.

However Béal quickly bent back over the arm, throwing his hand up to his mouth once he realized what slipped past his lips. Dammit dammit dammit--!

"Now c'mon, I wanna hear that again. Let me hear that precious voice." Béal shook his head, his body shaking once Ireland gave a final thrust of his fingers and kept them buried deep inside. His walls clenched around his fingers, a silent beg for more.

Béal moved his hand just slightly away from his mouth. "I-Ireland what the hell--"

"I want to hear you, Béal." Ireland pressed a thumb into the center of Béal's upper back and slid down, creating a pressure from the top to the bottom, earning the male a trembling, yet muffled moan. Irritated with his actions, Ireland took matters into his own hands. Carefully taking his fingers out from the other, Ireland fished the tie from his pocket, grabbed Béal's arms, and pulled back.

"Wh-What do you think you're doing?!" Béal exclaimed. A struggle ensued as the younger male attempted to pull his arms back to the front, but the battle was won by the other, pulling his arms back to him roughly and binding him with the blackened tie. "Y-You son of a--!"

"There. Now nothing is stopping your cute little voice." There was an all too happy grin plastered on Ireland's face, which didn't sit right with the other.

"I-Ireland I swear you better untie me!"

"I will, I will." There was another shift in the couch. "Just as soon as I finish up."

"I-I swear to god I'm gonna--A-Ah!!"

Ireland wasted no time sliding himself into Béal's awaiting hole, a soft, satisfying sigh leaving his lips as Béal's reaction was a struggling moan and a back arching into the air. Once Ireland's hips met Béal's backside, there was a pause as the two composed themselves from the sudden rush of ecstasy.

"I-Ire--" Béal's voice was near raspy as his body began to slowly relax.

"M-Mm?" Ireland leaned over, his chest once again flush over the other's back. "Yes, Béal?"

Béal's body stiffened from Ireland's heated breath just against his ear. God, his voice, his breath...it was still laced with alcohol, but he couldn't complain. There was something about it that just seemed...welcoming to him.

A smirk slid onto Ireland's face, his hand gently caressing Béal's cheek. "Come on, Béal. What is it?"

Aside from his shuddering breathing, Béal gave no response. He shook his head from Ireland's hand and attempted to focus on other things, little things like the fibers of the couch or the feel of the fabric. It did little when Ireland gave him a small grind. It surprised Béal enough to cause him gasp out, breaking his concentration. He glared back at the other, his hands uncurling and clenching repeatedly. "F-Fuck you...!" Ireland gave another small grind, Béal's walls unconsciously clenching tightly around the shaft as the two gave soft breaths of pleasure.

"Y-Ya know, Béal...I could properly fuck ya..." Ireland gripped Béal's hips tightly, as if preparing for a rough thrust, which the other's body almost all too happily prepared for with a sudden shudder and a faint wall clench. "Ya just gotta say it."

"Y-You know nothin's stoppin' ya, right?" Béal huffed, letting his head hang slightly. "J-Just do it already."

"No, no. I want to hear you say it."

Béal lifted his head to glare back at him, only to return it to its original position. "Bite me," he hissed out.

"Well...If you insist."

With widening eyes, Béal regretted the words that had fell from his mouth. "N-No no no I didn't--!"

Ireland fell flush along his back once more, his teeth sinking into the other's tender flesh just along his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to send the other into a loud, shuddering mess. It was like his voice had risen at least five levels when the moans left, wordless yet pleading. The pain sent boiling heat right down to his shaft, causing it to throb with need. His body shifted, his voice wavered, and his walls clenched tightly, leaving Ireland to hiss out from the sudden uncomfortable feeling, yet also smirk against the other's skin.

Béal didn't think it would feel the way it did. His toes clenched tightly, and his nails dug into his palms. Ireland soon unhinged his teeth, and Béal immediately slumped over, his body visibly trembling along the couch. The marks on his neck were deep and were sure to leave a bruise the next morning, but he didn't care. Béal only cared for the feeling it gave him, the rush of ecstasy it injected into his body. Ireland kept his position, but oh how did he want to sit up and admire his work.

"Not gonna give me any lip again, ah?" his breath fell towards the other's ear once more, another ripple of chill rolling down his spine as he shook his head. "That's a good boy. Now..." A shift of position, and Ireland soon had Béal up and sitting on his lap, his chilled back and hands pressing against Ireland's still clothed chest and stomach. The feeling of his shaft pressing deep within him caused Béal to whimper softly.

"I-Irelaaaaannnnd..."

He didn't know why, but just that whiny, needy tone of his name always sent a shiver down his back. His response to him was a nearly faltered, "Yes, Béal?"

Béal glanced back at Ireland, a pout plastered on his face. "You're still clothed."

Ireland huffed. "And ya point?"

"I-I'm stark naked! And you're--" Another shift, a sudden one at that, and Béal soon found his back pressed against the cushion of the couch, the other now hovering over him. Luckily for Béal, his hands pressed against himself in a way that didn't hurt his back or hands.

"I'm what...?" To be hovering over Béal the way he did gave Ireland some extra sense of dominance. He held the control, especially with his shaft still tucked inside of the other. His word was practically law, and they both knew.

"Y-You're..."

"Ya know why I'm still dressed, Béal?" Ireland leaned down, their faces just inches away. His hands gently climbed the other's sides, one resting against the cushion once reaching his head, the other slipping behind the ruffled blond strands, gripping firmly. "It's because it's easier to show who the little slut is."

An unexpected wall clench left Ireland to exhale a small hiss, brows knitted tightly with clenched eyes. Audible whimpering snapped his eyes wide open, The male that once fought tooth and nail to maintain every ounce of willpower, every ounce of dignity, had practically dissolved away under those little touches and words.

"F...Fuck me..."

Ireland, still in awe over Béal's appearance, didn't register his voice. His mind was too preoccupied with the sight that lay before him.

"F-Fuck me!" Béal ground his hips against Ireland's, his hands clenching into the cushions of the couch. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please!"

It was only a matter of seconds before everything clicked, and Ireland wasted no time. Hands on Béal's sides, he pulled back and slammed in with no hesitation. Béal let his head press against the couch with a satisfied moan, his lips falling into a sloppy, pleased smile.

"A-Again."

Oh did he listen. Another rough slam into his hips and Béal was almost putty in his hands. This time, they didn't stop. The thrusts came in hard and fast, Ireland's grip on the squirming male tightening into a bruising hold. Béal wrapped his legs around Ireland's waist, a way to pull him in deeper into him. He had never ached for something like this in such a way, and he didn't know how lewd he could possibly be. With his mind a blank mess, at this point he was willing to take anything and everything from one above. However, there was one thing he wanted more than anything else right now.

"U-Untie me," he pleaded in a rushed moan. "P-Please...fuck...u-untie me!"

Ireland's thrusts slowed, but never stopped. He reached behind Béal's back and hastily undid the tie. He was aching to resume his own actions which was granted to him once Béal threw his arms around the other's back. Nails dug into his skin, causing him to release a sharp hiss as he tossed the tie away.

"Sh-Shit," he gasped. "S-Since when did ye--"

"Sh-Shut up." Béal silenced him with a kiss, hands hastily gripping his hair to keep him close, only pulling away when the two could no longer breathe. Béal, hands still gripping into Ireland's orange locks, gazed deeply into his emerald hazed eyes. His voice was a rushed and breathless, "Please...Don't stop..."

A sick smirk slid onto Ireland's face, and without hesitation, the male gripped onto the other's hardened shaft. Béal's eyes widened in fear as he now gripped onto Ireland's arms, his moans increasing in pitch.

"I-Ireland, don't!" he begged, clawing down his arms. "P-Please let go!"

"Y-You don't want me to stop, right?" Ireland replied, looming over him. "This way...ha...it lasts longer."

"N-No no no I can't!" Béal threw his head back into the couch, nails scraping down Ireland's arms. "God please!" He could feel Ireland's muscles slack, and for a moment, Béal thought he would actually let go. However, a sudden firm grip and quick movement left Béal seeing stars. Screams of pleasure ripped through the house as Ireland wrecked him into the cushions. He slammed his mouth into his, silencing pleasured male. Ireland was not going to let this go. For the first time in years, he had control over him, something he had been aching to achieve for so long, and he would be damned if he let this chance slip away.

Béal tore himself away from the kiss, his breathing heavier than ever. "I-I'm gonna cum. P-Please, Ireland please let me cum!"

Ireland leaned over into his ear, hot breath fanning over it. "Oh, do you now?" he teased. "Is the little slut gonna cum?"

"Y-Yes! God fucking yes! Please let me cum!" Hard red lines decorated Ireland's arms from Béal's nails, tears starting to trickle from his eyes. He was practically in a paradise that he didn't want to leave yet he still ached for that sweet final release.

His wishes were soon answered when the pressure finally released from his shaft. His seed spilled over the two, staining his stomach and Ireland's clothes. Ireland buried himself deep within him, grinding deep inside to ride out his own orgasm. Béal could feel a scorching heat deep within his abdomen. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and burying his head into the crook of Ireland's neck.

Then his eyes opened.

He didn't recall heading to bed that night, let alone leaving the living room.

"Mmph..." He studied the blankets as he sat up. They were lighter than his own and not a color he recognized. "Where...?" Looking around, he knew this was not his room. Before he could think about it any further, his head throbbed, and he pressed a hand into the side of his head. "Ugh...fucking...hangover...? What even happened last night?"

A sudden shift in the bed and his gaze immediately went over to the figure beside him.

Ireland lie nuzzled into the pillow, blankets curled up into him. His side gently rising and falling with every soft breath. Recollection of the night before slowly came back to him. A sigh escaped him as he ran a hand through his messy blond hair. He sat there like that for a moment until a vibration broke him out of his thoughts. A phone on the nightstand was vibrating intensely and knowing the length of the vibrations, he assumed it was a call. Whether or not this was his or Ireland's phone, he didn't know, yet he answered it anyway.

"Hello...?" His voice was groggy with sleep.

"Ireland Cliath!!" The voice screeched on the other end, sending his headache further into a throbbing pain. "Where the hell is Béal?! I know he had to have been with you! He wasn't at his home last night, and none of the others have even seen him, so I know you have to have either seen him or better yet have him stuffed away in that stuffy house of yours!"

Béal gave him a few seconds before responding. "England...I'm fine."

"Wait, Béal?" His voice quieted but didn't necessarily soften. "Bloody hell why are you there?! You told me you were sick!"

"And you said the queen had fifty corgis, but when I went there there was only nine."

"I..." England faltered. Béal hadn't ever really spoken back to him like that before. "Those were just dogs! This is you lying to me and not being where you said you were."

"Oh don't even start this." Béal kept his voice low and calm, not wanting to wake Ireland up. "Listen, I'll be home soon. Don't wait up."

"Béal!--!"

A flick of his finger and the phone folded shut silencing the voice that was worsening his headache. The phone fell back to the nightstand with a clatter. Béal then curled up under the blankets, shifting close to Ireland before slipping his eyes shut.

Next time, it would be on his terms.


End file.
